Hope

Tessa yanks open another drawer, pulling out yet another bland pantsuit. Navy blue this time. She holds it up like it’s a prize. “Do you think this one’s better?”

I’m sitting cross-legged on her bed, trying to look helpful. It’s hard.

My wolf huffs her displeasure at the human frivolity of picking an outfit.

Run, she demands.

In a minute, Tessa needs us.

I eye the suit and wince inwardly. “It looks like all the others you rejected.”

She frowns, her eyebrows dipping in the center. “No, it doesn’t. This one has pinstripes.”

I tilt my head. “Pinstripes. Right. Are you fucking with me, or do you want to...